Love... God what a diverse, non definable, and egocentric subject to write about.
This blog is about me, however. Me and my viewpoints. So here I am, hanging out
naked to the world, talking about the singular most important emotion any living being can have.
This brings me to another point. Is love just an emotion (or a second hand emotion, as Tina Turner was wont to say) or is it a mind set? I believe that love is a way of life...not some sappy "gee I love you and the world is wonderful" type of mind set. Love is not a universal emotion, you see.
Rather, love is just one step beyond acceptance and one step before unwavering commitment.
I remember the first love of my life. Her name was Kaye Harp. She had long flowing black hair and she was the cutest freshman in high school. That was not, however, why I fell in love with Kaye.
Kaye and I exchanged ideas. As insignificant and meaningless by today's standards as those ideas were: she listened to my ideas and I to hers...we became close in mind and body. We also drifted apart...you see, a poor teacher's son was no match for the son of a big city doctor driving a restored '57 Chevy Nomad. I guess that guy conveyed better ideas than did I.
And I love her still...I heard that she had not survived the ravages of cancer. I suppose I should have tried to stay closer in touch. But then again she left me once, I guess that is enough.
I am not going to enumerate every love I have had in my life, that is not the intent of this post.
My intent is to elaborate on what I believe the mindset and emotion called love really is.
If I love a grandson who has existed on this planet for ten minutes, why can I not love a person who is thirty years my senior, or decades my junior?
You see, it is all in the definition.
I think there is this special place in a person's mind that is reserved those who touch a special place in one's heart.
They don't leave that place, no matter their actions or the time or distance apart.The emotion that is felt as love is indelible.
Given all the above information, saying "I love you"and loving someone are two totally separate entities.
Saying "I love you " is the end of a phone conversation, or the start of a deeply physical encounter.
Putting that person in the special "love" section of your mind is what true love is all about.
I cannot define it,l I cannot , most assuredly, define it for you.
For me, however, Love is that which there is no universal definition. Please remember, however, that emotion and love are two entirely different things. Love is a mindset.

I thought I had posted this short story earlier on this blog...apparently not.
So here is the morose story I call simply  "Jess"

He was born seventy three years ago and how he made it this far was a wonder to all who knew him.
He squatted by the fire as would an Indian, smoking his home rolled cigarette, as he had done for
Most of his life.
The old man had lived in the woods all his life, never been out of them.
He knew when the squirrels  were the easiest to get.
He knew where all the blackberry brambles were and he knew how to make sassafras tea.
He also knew when the revenooers were in the area…he just knew.

His mama had named him Joshua, most of his life, he went by pops.
Pops  never had been married, never knew a woman who would put
Up with what he liked to say was “his style”.

Didn’t  know about any kids he had, ‘course he might have had a few runnin around.

Pops had a specialty…

He produced what the hill folk called “pops’ home cookin’”

Moonshine

100 proof , clear, kick-your-butt, make you kiss your ugly ole aunt,  good ole corn whiskey.

You see Pops was sitting around a fire, but it wasn’t any campfire.
Oh, no.
This fire had a still over it…it had to be tended closely, as only Pops knew how to do, to make that still
Produce what he was famous for.

That’s what he did
That’s who he was

Pops had done some jail time. He wasn’t bitter, he just figured the gub’ment was doin’ what they had
To do.
“Them revenooers is mad ‘cause I don’t pay no taxes to the gub’ment. Well, taxes is what pays them
Revenooers salary. “ “ They’s pissed off ‘cause I ain’t payin’ their salary.” “ I’ve heard about them
Type of things goin’ on in Chicago, with the Mob, I think it was called ‘protectionism”.

He didn’t know it , but this was to be his last run of ‘shine.
The very next day the Carrol County sheriff  picked him up.
Pops, sheriff Sutton said, I know you make some great ‘shine,
Had a few pints myself.
But the Feds said if I don’t put a stop to it, they will.
We got to bust up your still…matter of fact , your whole operation.
Them 120 gallon barrels gonna get the axe.
Tomorrow, we’ll come by in the afternoon to pick you up.
That should give you time to find some one to keep that flea-bag hound you call ol’ Jess,
Your two mules and that damned ugly jass-honkey you call Frank.

Now breakin up a man's still is one thing...but talkin bad about a person's critters, well...
hat's just mean!


The sheriff and his deputies did what they had to do.

Pops too

The two mules and Frank were down at the Jones place.

Pops and  ol’ Jess was found curled up in bed.
Their race was run.
They both gave up.
As it should be.